Ginger
by Allons-yEveryone
Summary: Sherlock is in the bathroom, there's clattering and banging. What could he be doing? Ginger!Sherlock  Rated T for course language, nothing more. One shot.


**Ginger**

**Rating: **T  
><strong>Genre: <strong>Hurt/Comfort  
><strong>Summary: <strong>Sherlock is in the bathroom, there's clattering and banging. What could he be doing? Ginger!Sherlock  
><strong>Author Note:<strong> Contains strong language

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><p>"Sherlock!" the pounding on the door sent my heart racing, he couldn't come in, he couldn't see me like this! "Sherlock! You've been in there for hours, have you fallen in the toilet?" John's voice was sarcastic with a hint of sincere worry, if that were even possible.<br>I spun, had I locked the door! My elbow hit something and it clattered to the floor, I looked down, it was my toothbrush. Wait the door!  
>"Sherlock? Sherlock! Are you okay!" John was suddenly extremely worried.<br>I grabbed the toothbrush quickly shoving it back on the sink, clanking different bottles and nearly knocking off the skull, which was sitting precariously on the edge of a pile of books. I'd moved it there when Mrs Hudson had tried to hide it.

I suddenly realised I hadn't answered, "Y-yes," it was a splutter of words and I quickly turned back to the door, locking it- It hadn't been locked! –and rushing back to clean up.  
>The…equipment I was using was beginning to fall into the sink, "Shit," I exclaimed under my breath grabbing each tool and dropping a small box, it made the least noise of any of the items I'd dropped and still John heard it.<br>"Sherlock, are you sure?" the handle to the door twisted and turned and I remembered it was slightly faulty.  
>"John seriously!" I exclaimed clutching the equipment to my chest, I looked into the mirror and groaned.<br>"Sherlock? I need to go to the loo, do you think you could hurry up?"

"Uh…" I picked up the box that had fallen and dropped nearly half of the contents I had in my arms, "Shi- um just- fuck…" I collected them all, more dropping from my arms, there was more clattering and more groaning and with a wine of frustration I collapsed onto the ground, "Fucking…god…" I let the items fall and rested my head in my hands.  
>"Sherlock! You're seriously worrying me, let me in…what's wrong?"<br>I didn't answer, I just wanted to fucking sit here for fucking forever…maybe I could drown myself…there was a sudden bang and I jumped.  
>"Sherlock!" John's voice was laced with desperation and worry, "Sherlock! I'm breaking in, unless you tell me what's happening in there!"<br>"N-Nothing John," my voice cracked, it sounded pitiful and unlike my usual confident deducing tone.

There was another bang, followed by another, a grunt and another bang and click the door flung open. I looked up, my eyesight was slightly blurry but I could still see John clearly. He looked down at me slowly, his eyes were wide with surprise and his mouth was slightly open, his hands were outstretched slightly but dropped to his side when he had begun staring.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-John POV-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

I threw myself at the door once, twice, thrice and it banged open. All kinds of torturous images were racing through my mind. Some terrifying, some reasonable, some utterly ridiculous but what I hadn't expected was to find my sociopathic inhuman flat mate on the floor of our bathroom, tear filled eyes, slightly pink cheeks and…honest to god, fiery orange curls. I blinked, orange…his hair was orange…his usually raven black curls were, I blinked again, bright, bright orange.

The man sniffed and wiped his running nose along his dressing gown sleeve, "Sh-Sherlock?" I asked uncertainly, I would know how to act if I found him with a syringe or knife or gun, for the love of god I would know what to do if he had set the whole bathroom on fire…But to find his hair alight with red's and oranges…I closed my gaping mouth, "Your hair," I said finally. Yes John fantastic, great observation!

Sherlock nodded and sniffed again and I turned my head in confusion, why was he acting like this. I knelt down, "Are you okay?" I asked, don't stare at his hair, don't stare at his hair, don't stare at…god how bloody red was it…I'm staring aren't I?  
>Sherlock shook his head, so I put a hand on his shoulder, "Don't worry," I smiled, "Tell me what happened and I can help."<br>I looked around for some dye, he must have tried to dye his hair…or maybe it had been an accident…an experiment? "Ah ha," I grinned, I found the box of hair dye amongst other things, brushes, hair things etc…I picked it up and spun it in my hand.

Sherlock took a sudden shuddering breath and I turned the box to show the front. A photo of a man with red hair and the words fiery red (or something like that) was what I expected. What I didn't expect was a man with jet-black hair and the words, 'Ink Black.'  
>I stared for a little while, this was hair dye to dye someone's hair black…I looked back at Sherlock and found him staring at the ground. I looked at his hair, it looked real enough, what I just couldn't fathom was just how…fucking red it was.<p>

"You have red hair," I said slowly, "You have honest to god naturally red hair…"  
>Sherlock nodded, bringing his legs up to his chest.<br>I chuckled, Sherlock whimpered and I looked down at him, worry obviously written all over my face, "What's wrong?" I asked.  
>Sherlock hid his face in his clothing, shuddering slightly.<br>"Sherlock?" I moved closer, "Sherlock? What's wrong?"  
>"Ma-fu-mehthn," he muffled into his clothing.<br>"What?" I asked, moving my head closer.  
>He lifted his red curls and muttered through now obvious tears, "Make fun of me then," he sniffed.<p>

I grimaced, "Why would I do that?" I asked.  
>Sherlock sighed, like it was obvious and he was actually tiering of waiting for the comments he thought would come from me, "Because I have red hair."<br>I smiled, "I wouldn't make fun of you," I said. Sherlock looked up so I continued, "I'd never do that!"  
>"Really?" Sherlock asked in a childlike tone.<br>"Yeah," I laughed, ruffling his hair with my right hand.  
>"Then why…?" he asked uncertainly.<br>"I'm just a little shocked" I said "…I mean…" I bit my lip, "I'd never have even guessed! You hid it so well…" I frowned and tilted my head, "Why did you hide it?" I asked.

Sherlock sighed again but sat up straighter, rubbing the palms of his hands into his eyes and taking a deep breath, "My whole family was born with jet black hair, well except for my great great uncle, Sherlock," he shuddered, "I had been named after him, my mother thought he had a good name…as if I didn't need another thing for people to laugh at-" he sighed, "Anyway, my great great uncle had red hair and he was mad, loop the loop, completely round the bend…and then I was born with red hair too…" he groaned, "Mycroft had black hair, my mother, my father…every…fucking person except for me…"

I nodded sympathetically even though he couldn't see me. Poor Sherlock…  
>"At school I never had friends, all because of this," he pulled at his hair in frustration, a look of pain ripping across his sad features. I quickly put my hand over his and his fist unclenched slowly.<br>"I didn't have anyone to learn from, anyone to tell me what was wrong or right…I found myself in the library most of my childhood, reading…I read and read and read…and the books and fantasies of being a famous detective became the only things I knew…" he shrugged, "When I was old enough I left my stupid family and began dying my hair…but no matter how hard I try…it's too late…I'm too different…" he'd begun crying again, "and still the fucking hair won't stay the fucking right colour…"

I put an arm around him and pulled him closer to me, he reminded me so much of a child and now? Even more so!  
>I stroked his hair gently, "Your hair is staying the right colour Sherlock," I said softly, "It's staying just the right colour," I rested my cheek against his curls and sighed comparing the colours to things I'd seen that made me sigh with fascination and wonder, "Like the leaves that fall from autumn trees and the old letter's sent by lovers, the ancient books in famous libraries, the colour of delicious spicy foods, the colour of your beautiful violin, the smell of oranges, the colour of the sun and the light that shines on your face when you sit by the window…"<br>Sherlock's shuddering's had stopped and I hugged him closer, chuckling, "Did I ever tell you what my favourite colours were?" I asked him.  
>He shook his head slowly.<br>"My favourite colours are blue and black," he stiffened, but he should know me better than that, "Buuuut," I prolonged the word, the mean person that I was and finished with, "My very very very favourite colour would have to be orange," I snuggled myself further into his soft curls, "This exact colour of orange," I whispered and felt rather than saw him smirk.

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><p><strong>I did this when I was feeling sick and had nothing to do...<strong>

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